Two Boys in Wyoming | Page 2

his soiled uniform, and his grimy face,
struggled to his feet and pantingly waited for the signal from his
captain, he was just as good as ever. It takes a great deal to hurt a
rugged youth, who has no bad habits and is in sturdy training.
The active lad who had downed Jack when going at full speed, and
nipped in the bud his brilliant attempt, was Fred Greenwood, only a
few months younger. He was full-back for the Oakdales and their best
player. Furthermore, he was the closest friend of Jack Dudley. In the
game it was war to the knife between them, but in the very crisis of the
terrific struggle neither had a harsh thought or a spark of jealousy of the
other. Fred led the cheering of the opposing eleven when Jack kicked
such a beautiful goal, but gritted his teeth and muttered:
"You did well, my fine fellow, but just try it again--that's all!"
And Jack did try it again, as I have explained, and, tackling him low,
Fred downed him. While the two were apparently suffocating under the
mountain, Fred spat out a mouthful of dirt and said:
"I got you that time, Jack."
"It has that look, but----"
Jack meant to finish his sentence, but at that moment the mountain on
top sagged forward and jammed his head so deeply into the earth that
his voice was too muffled to be clear. Besides, it was not really
important that the sentence should be rounded out, since other matters
engaged his attention. The two friends went through the game without a
scratch, except that Jack's face was skinned along the right cheek, one
eye was blackened, both legs were bruised, and half his body was black
and blue, and it was hard work for him to walk for a week afterward.
The condition of Fred, and indeed of nearly every member of the two
elevens, was much the same.

But what of it? Does a football-player mind a little thing like that?
Rather is he not proud of his scars and bruises, which attest his skill
and devotion to his own club? And then Jack had the proud exultation
of knowing that it was he who really won the championship for his side.
As for Fred, it is true he was disappointed over the loss of the deciding
game, but it was by an exceedingly narrow margin; and he and his
fellow-players, as they had their hair cut so as to make them resemble
civilized beings, said, with flashing eyes and a significant shake of the
head:
"Wait till next year, and things will be different."
Fred Greenwood was the son of a physician of large practice, whose
expectation was that his son would follow the same profession, though
the plans of the parents were in a somewhat hazy shape, owing to the
youth of the boy. As I have already said, he and Jack Dudley had been
comrades or chums almost from infancy. They were strong, active,
clear-brained lads, who had not yet learned to smoke cigarettes or
cigars, and gave no cause to fear that they would ever do so. It is not
necessary to state that neither knew the taste of beer or alcoholic drinks,
nor did they wish to learn. They understood too well the baleful effects
of such indulgences to be in danger of ruining their bodies and souls, as
too many other youths are doing at this very time.
Doctor Greenwood had been the family physician of the Dudleys for
many years. The heads of the families were college mates at Harvard,
and continued their intimacy after the marriage of each, so that it was
quite natural that their sons should become fond of each other. The
fathers were sensible men, and so long as their boys' fondness for
athletic sports did not interfere with their studies the gentlemen
encouraged them, and, when possible, were present at the contests
between the representatives of the schools.
When Jack Dudley was presented with a shotgun and allowed to make
an excursion down the Jersey coast Fred was his companion, and the
two had rare sport in shooting duck and wild fowl. They became quite
expert for boys, and before the hunting season set in did considerable
fishing in the surrounding waters, and both learned to be skilful

swimmers and boatmen.
Mr. Dudley was wealthier than his professional friend, though the large
practice of the physician placed him in comfortable circumstances. In
one of his many business transactions Mr. Dudley found that he had to
choose between losing a considerable sum of money and accepting a
half-ownership in a ranch in the new State of Wyoming. There seemed
little choice between the two horns of the dilemma, for he saw no
prospect